


The Persistence of Memory

by Miratete



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Co-workers, F/M, M/M, Other, Post-Transformers: Lost Light 25, Targetmaster(s), Trouble In Paradise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: -o-o-o-o-o-The work release assignment, exterminating Dire Wraiths on a distant Camien colony, was pretty good in and of itself.  But if Whirl could just convince one of the colonists to be his conjunx, all his dreams would come true.  His sentence would be terminated.  He'd spend his days in combat and his nights doing kinky things to his beautiful new bondmate.  On the down side, competition from other mechs wanting the same thing was stiff.  And those obnoxious pink aliens aren't helping.  And what's with that constant feeling of deja vu every time he talks to the Lunarian next door?-o-o-o-o-o-Chapter 5 posted! Nautica always loved explaining things.  While waiting at the train station, Nautica explains her pregnancy as well as the pink alien humping Whirl's leg.-o-o-o-o-o-





	1. An Invitation Extended

-o-o-o-o-o-

The warden looked again at his datapad, scrolled through it a short distance, and then turned back to the assembly. “And one more thing...”

With a small groan, Whirl flopped his head to the side in frustration. It wasn't that there was somewhere else he'd rather be or that he needed to get to, but if Ultra Magnus had ever had a soulmate, Warden Griplock of Garrus 10 was it. The warden had this thing for holding a morning meeting with the inmates every three days, where news would be disseminated and rumors would be quelled and sappy encouragement handed out. Usually Griplock kept the meetings short—under an hour—but today's had seemed exceptionally long, what with the introduction of the visiting delegates from Caminus, a lecture on how the upkeep of the common areas needed to improve, an uncomfortably long prayer to Primus from the Lunarian chaplain, and a pep-talk on how much progress everyone was making.

“Our Camien visitors wish to extend an invitation to those combat veterans incarcerated here at Garrus 10. Normally, we do not send our inmates out on work release to places other than Cybertron, but after consideration and consultation with our own government, we have agreed to make an exception.”

Whirl was suddenly interested. Work release was better than languishing at Garrus 10. A trip off of the planet sounded like a vacation. And the Camiens specifically wanted combat veterans? His pincers twitched at the thought of holding a weapon again. His transfluid flushed hotly through his systems at the thought of being able to smash heads and not be tossed into solitary for it.

The head Camien rose from her seat and came forward, taking the microphone from Griplock. “Thank you, warden,” she said, and then turned to the assembly. “I will make this short, as I know that not all of you will be interested, but details will be made available to those who are.”

Whirl would have smiled if he'd had the ability—this Camien was someone who understood the meaning of “get on with it.”

“One of our colonies has need of experienced warriors. The colony of Caminus Theta reported the appearance of several Dire Wraiths on their planet, Solsegan 5, just under a meta-cycle ago. In the past seven deca-cycles, the numbers of Dire Wraiths has grown, besieging our colony after having devastated the colonies of another alien race also on Solsegan 5.” She paused for a moment, looking at her notes, letting the information sink in.

“For those of you unfamiliar with Dire Wraiths, they are large, dangerous, vicious organics with strange abilities and a desire to kill anyone and anything they encounter, Cybertronians included. They are kept in check by a league of combatants in their native part of the galaxy, but when the Wraiths move beyond it, there is little that can stop them. Cybertronian weaponry and technology has proven effective against them, but we Camiens lack the combat experience to give us the upper hand in protecting our people.”

Whirl's processor was already spinning. He knew where this had to be going.

“I shall summarize the process, but again, all the details will be made available to those interested,” the Camien continued. “We will begin taking applicants for the program immediately. Those accepted will be put onto a list of candidates for sponsorship. That list will be available to the Caminus Theta colonists, who will have the option of sponsoring a participant. If selected, the participant, that's you, will be transported to Solsegan 5 and placed into a combat team there. You will live with your sponsors but work with other veterans.”

“I like this program. This is a great program,” said Whirl to no-one in particular. It really would involve weapons and fighting and an off-world vacation.

“Those participants who prove themselves effective at combating the Dire Wraiths will be offered permanent residence on Solsegan 5, with the stipulation that they have found a conjunx endura among the local population.”

“So, if we go there and fight Wraiths and find a bondmate, we get to stay?” asked Hardcase, a fellow veteran of the great war. “As in 'no more Garrus 10'? That sounds... almost too good to be true.”

“Sounds like it,” said another mech standing next to him.

“A chance to fight, to have a conjunx, and to never have to come back here?” Whirl gasped. “That really does sound too good to be true.”

The Camien's next words confirmed what they'd theorized.

Whirl's fans spun with joy. “I really like this program. Really, really like this program.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

"The Persistence of Memory" continues in Chapter 2: "An Invitation Accepted"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	2. An Invitation Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whirl has a plan. A really good plan to go with this really good offer the Camiens have made.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Whirl was so excited he couldn't keep from jiggling his pincers. The four prongs clattered and pinged against each other. “This is is. This is so going to be it. I'll be out of here and none of you slaggers will ever see me again.” He gestured at the grey walls of the prison workshop around them, these of which were particularly dingy. Warden Griplock had zealously instituted a program of rehabilitation that included classes on practical things. He was all for the reintroduction of his prisoners into society, but knew that there was more to it than serving time and then being set free. Much of the program however was learning how to process ore and to use and maintain the equipment for such. With the rebuilding of Cybertron and restoration of Luna 1, no one questioned this sort of education of the prisoners.

Shadowblast smirked. “I doubt that. You're not the only one that's going to apply for adoption.”

“It's not adoption,” Whirl countered.

“It is adoption. Remember what Griplock said?” Shadowblast corrected him. “You fill out the application, and if they approve it, the good citizens of Caminus Theta get to see it too and pick you out like they're adopting a pet or a Lunarian or a whatever.”

Whirl laughed. “Well sure. Adoption or not, once I get selected this will be a piece of oilcake. Go to Caminus Theta. Kill a dozen Dire Wraiths or so. Then some grateful Camien is going to be like 'Oh Whirl, you're amazing. Would you be my personal protector? Why don't you be my conjunx as well?' And then she's throwing herself at me wanting me for more than just my big guns. Camiens love sex, you know. Piece of oilcake, I tell you.”

Shock laughed. “Seriously Whirl? You think it's going to be that easy?”

“Hell yes. Just gotta fire up the chest and turn on that sexy Whirl charm and...”

“Whirl charm?” Hardcase guffawed.

“I do have charm.”

“Yeah right,” Shadowblast groaned.

“I do have charm,” Whirl huffed. “Before you know it I'm going to have a Camien bondmate and when I'm not fraggin' these Dire Wraith monsters I'll be fraggin' her. And I'll never be back here again.”

The other mechs laughed. “Yeah sure. Good luck with that, Whirl.”

Whirl folded his arms over his cockpit. “Just you watch.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Whirl looked over the application form that scrolled up on the datapad. It was pretty much as expected. The form was divided into three sections: military service, education, and personal information. The first section wanted to know when he'd served, for which faction, and what honors and awards he'd received. The second basically wanted to know what he knew.

The third... Whirl took his time filling the third section out. That was the part that would sell him to a Camien. Camiens weren't about the war. They loved creativity. The loved the arts. Music. Theater. Literature. Visual arts. When it wanted him to talk about his hobbies, he detailed his study of horology and the beautiful timepieces he'd created. When it asked him to write a summary biography of his life, he wrote an epic ballad that brought out the heroic exploits of his millions of years while glossing over such things as why he'd been kicked out of the Wreckers and his less than glorious life since the end of the Lost Light's journey. Some anxious Camien would read of his adventures and combat prowess, but also see his protective nature and artistic side, and decide immediately that Whirl would be the one for her. The Dire Wraiths wouldn't stand a chance against him; nor would the lucky Camien's heart.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” Whirl grinned inside as he submitted his application. He'd be chosen for sponsorship faster than Rodimus could have ever said “'Til all are one' and he'd be on the next cruiser to Solsegan 5 and Caminus Theta.

-o-o-o-o-

"The Persistence of Memory" continues in Chapter 3: "An Offer Accepted"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	3. An Offer Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whirl's fortunes are on the rise--a couple on Solsegan 5 has decided to sponsor him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

“Hey Whirl!”

Whirl looked up from his berth at the guard standing on the other side of the prison bars.

“Looks like you got yourself accepted on that Camien colony program. That sure was quick.”

Normally the rotary took his time dragging himself out of bed in the mornings, but today was an exception. There was actually a reason to get up. He bounced up to the bars of his cell, slipping his pincers between the bars, reaching for the red datapad in the guard's hand.

“Your sponsors look like a nice couple too.” He was apparently in no hurry to hand over the datapad.

“Gimme gimme!” Whirl squawked, the inhibitor on the hub of his hand clanging up against the bars. It was then he realized the guard who'd brought the acceptance file was Lunarian 7399. The mech hadn't taken a name yet, but most of the inmates called him Tease, for what he liked to do.

“Let's see. They've been there forty-five meta-cycles. Apparently out in one of the satellite towns. Some place called Tallix Bay.” Tease was scrolling through the information meant for Whirl.

“C'mon. That's mine. I want to see it.” Whirl was desperate now to get a look. He'd hoped for a single Camien to adopt him—would make that whole impress-seduce-bond plan work easier. But a couple was workable as well. Camiens might go for a trine. Maybe two femmes. That would be so hot, him sandwiched between a couple of pretty ladies. A mech and a femme offered a lot of fun possibilities as well. Two mechs? He might as well just start worshiping Primus right now.

“Lessee... The femme's a medic. Has her own clinic in Tallix Bay.”

A femme medic. Oh sexy sexy. His processors took him immediately to a scenario of coming home from battling a slew of Dire Wraiths, banged up and bleeding out, and of her putting him back together. Of course before she was finished she'd be up on the mediberth as well, fixing him in other ways. There were few things more arousing than the thought of a post-battle 'face when you were no longer dying but still hurting in a good number of places.

“And the mech runs a tavern in Tallix Bay. Well that will be nice. Bet he'll give you free drinks.” Tease was smiling. “Maybe I should have signed up for this program,” he laughed. “Not that I have any combat experience.”

Whirl clicked the tips of his pincers together. This was amazing. Absolutely amazing. Second to fragging your medic was paying your bar tab with something you would have done anyway, drinks or not. Things could hardly have been better. A femme medic and a mech bartender. It would be like hooking up with Velocity and Swerve.

And then his transfluid suddenly ceased to flow. Hadn't he heard something about Velocity and Nautica moving out to some Camien colony?

“Hey, Tease?” Whirl coughed. “Are their names there in the information?” No, of course it wouldn't be either of them. Plenty of femmes became medics and plenty of mechs ran taverns.

The guard scrolled the pages back up a bit. “Yeah... they're right here under their picture.” He turned the screen to Whirl.

Whirl didn't hear anything Tease said after that. He was staring in shock at the picture.

Velocity and Swerve.

He'd been adopted by Velocity and Swerve.

Really.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"The Persistence of Memory" continues in Chapter 4: "A Journey Taken"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	4. A Journey Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whirl arrives on Solsegan 5 and is handed over to Swerve and Nautica. It's a beautiful reunion.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Whirl, along with five other inmates from Garrus 10 were brought out of stasis as the ship began its descent through Solsegan 5's thick atmosphere before finalizing their course to the Camien colony. He'd long gotten over the shock of having been chosen by his former crewmates, who were also shockingly conjunxed, and was now just excited to see them. They'd sent a brief message, saying that they and Nautica and Nautica's conjunx endura were all sharing a large house in an outlying coastal community. But there was plenty of room for him as well, and they were all very eager to see him.

He'd been disappointed to find out that Nautica had found someone. It meant that there were two fewer Camiens that could get him out of the prison system. And sadly he wouldn't have minded her being the lucky one to keep him. She was intelligent, brave, fun-loving, respectable, and interesting. A quantum mechanic and a bibliophile. Into all sorts of strange but intriguing things he barely comprehended. She danced and she drank strong engex and she wasn't afraid of a little dirt on her hands or bit of hard work. And then that waist... He had fantasies of wrapping his pincers around that little waist of hers and...

Who was he kidding? Nautica was way too good for him, and that was certainly an understatement if he'd ever composed one.

The ship continued to descend, and through the windows the contingent could see blue skies and fluffy white clouds above a very organic landscape of green meadows and scattered copses of tall trees. Eventually they were landing at a sprawling spaceport just outside of Caminus Theta's capital.

“Welcome to Caminus Theta,” came the pilot's voice over the loudspeaker. “We're touching down in Theta Major, capital of of the colony and home of the famed Solsegan Jetworks. We've been in contact with your sponsors, and three of you will be handed off to them immediately after clearing immigration and customs. The other two will be staying overnight at local accommodations while waiting for pick-up.”

Whirl hoped that someone was there to meet him, and once again he was blessed with good fortune. If this kept up he might actually have to stop insulting Primus. On coming out of customs, he immediately heard Swerve hollering at him from behind a low barrier where a crowd of mechs and femmes awaited their arrivals.

“Whirl! Whirl! Oi! Over here!”

Whirl looked at his escort, who then nodded at him with a sympathetic smile.

The rotary walked over, and Swerve grabbed him by the pincer, the small mech grinning so hard Whirl wondered if the minibot's faceplate might break. “Good to see you again, Swerve. You're looking well. This whole marriage thing must be awfully good for you.”

“Hey, am I glad to see you too. Primus, I thought you'd never get here. We've been so excited for your arrival. And not to be taking advantage, but we've been having a lot of trouble from Dire Wraiths up in Tallix Bay. But of course that's the reason you're here, to combat them.”

Whirl's escorting guard looked at his datapad. “You're Swerve of Helex, I take it?” he asked.

“That's me,” Swerve grinned, pointing at himself with his thumbs. “And this here, in case you didn't know, is one of the best warriors we ever threw at the Decepticons and anything else that needed a warrior thrown at it. I don't know how many times he saved my life. And hey, he and I pretty much saved the galaxy together. You ever hear of the Lost Light? Of course you have.”

The guard coughed and handed the datapad to Swerve. “Sign here please.”

With a disappointed grunt, Swerve took the datapad and applied his glyphs.

“You'll receive information from his combat group within the next two days. They'll be the ones to remove his restraints and prepare him for work,” continued the guard flatly.

Swerve looked with more intent at Whirl, and while he wasn't in chains as he had been the last time he'd seen him—Ratchet's funeral—he had a thick inhibitor on each claw and obvious restraining bolts in several places. A heavy duty security collar encircled the third span of his left leg.

“Good luck to both of you,” the guard said as he took the datapad back from Swerve and walked off to rejoin the others.

“So that was it? I'm a free mech now? Well, sort of free?”

Swerve grinned. “Sort of. You're in my keeping, and Velocity's too. And you've got a responsibility here. But otherwise, I guess so.”

“And if I can get a colonist to conjunx with me, then I'll be very free.” His yellow optic narrowed gleefully. “I hope you've got lots of single friends.”

Swerve laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, sure. I know all kinds of great mechs and femmes I'll have to introduce you to.”

“Whirl!” cried a familiar voice.

“Speaking of great femmes...” Swerve said, sounding a little more positive.

Whirl watched as Nautica pushed her way toward the barrier and opened one arm for a huge hug. On her head was a crown of white flowers with thick waxy petals bordered by fine pinnate leaves. “You're here already. I thought they'd be keeping you back a while there in customs and immigration.” She embraced him over the barrier.

Whirl reached up and returned the hug. It was strange being touched in friendship again. They'd all gotten so into holding hands and claws and whatever aboard the Lost Light. And then it was gone.

“He only just got here. You haven't missed much.”

“Whirl, I'm so excited you're here. You're going to love it at Caminus Theta.” She pulled back at and looked him in the optic, her purple lips smiling.

Whirl tried not to squirm. Why did both she and Velocity have to be conjunxed? And damn she looked good. Heck, even Swerve looked good. Okay, maybe there would be the opportunity for a trine. He couldn't rule that out.

“Well, I'd stopped to buy a little something for you. Whirl, I got you this,” Nautica explained, setting down the shopping bag draped over one arm and withdrawing something leafy and floral and organic from a plastic box.

A floral crown like hers? Whirl squinted at it. “A bouquet?” On Cybertron, real flowers had come into vogue for gifts and tokens of love. In a very few places, they'd actually been able to grow them in the soil, though most were either grown in the mild climate of carefully controlled greenhouses or imported from off-world, making them rather expensive.

“Floral collar. It's the Summer Awakening holiday,” she said. “I bought one for you too, Swerve.”

Swerve groaned.

“It was Lotty's idea,” she grinned.

“Summer Awakening?” Whirl questioned. Looking around more intently now, he saw that a lot of mechs and femmes adorned with organic collars and crowns. There were garlands of fake flowers hung for decoration and the advertisement signs frequently sported them in the images, along with sunny skies and smiling Camiens with colorful drinks in hand.

“Prettiest time of the year,” she beamed. “A celebration of longer days and the blossoming of the flowers and the birth of new things.” She leaned over the barrier and brought the floral loop over Whirl's head and draped it around his shoulders. Whirl found himself the center of a ring of bright pink blossoms and fernery. “Yours is yellow Anatoli roses,” she said to Swerve, decorating him likewise.

“Becoming a Spectralist, I see,” Swerve remarked.

“Your conjunx chose the color. Not me,” she replied.

Whirl wondered what pink symbolized in the Spectralist way of things.

“So let's get your luggage and get out of here. The train station's downstairs and we should be able to catch the express up the coast, if we head there now.” Nautica still had that take-charge attitude, Whirl noted.

“I don't have any luggage. Honestly I didn't have much, so it's all in my subspace,” he said.

“All right then. Let's just go.”

Whirl headed for the end of the barrier, and when he reached it, Swerve took up a place beside him as they followed Nautica through the spaceport's terminal. “I'm so glad you're here,” he said, smiling up at the rotary. His hand wrapped around a claw again.

“Eh, I'm glad to be anywhere that isn't prefixed with 'Garrus' you know,” Whirl replied. He didn't pull the claw from Swerve's grasp.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"The Persistence of Memory" continues in Chapter 5: A Species Discovered

-o-o-o-o-o-


	5. A Species Discovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nautica always loved explaining things. While waiting at the train station, Nautica explains her pregnancy as well as the pink alien humping Whirl's leg.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Nautica sat with Whirl as Swerve went to get tickets for the train up the coast that would stop in Tallix Bay.

“Sooo, what sort of equipment is that you've added?” asked Whirl, gesturing at the new spread of Nautica's midsection. Her hip-plating stood out further, and that waist of hers that had intrigued him so much before had filled out.

Nautica's face-shield slipped up. “This?” she asked, placing her hand against the swell.

“Yeah. New engines? Going for bigger and better?”

She looked surprised, but then she smiled. “I guess you've never seen it before. It's a Camien thing.”

“Bigger tank to take in more fuel?”

“Whirl, I'm self-forging”

The rotary cocked his head.

“I've got a developing newspark in there.”

The rotary looked at her blankly, which had never been difficult after his empurata.

She giggled. “I'm pregnant... sort of. Solaris—my conjunx—and I decided to give self-forging a go.”

“Self-forging?” He leaned in, bringing his face up close to her abdomen. “So, how is that different from a symbiont?”

“Camiens found a way long ago to take a newspark and mold it with the influence of a parent. You need... say... an architect. You take a newspark that hasn't been brought to term and its accompanying sentio metallico, implant them within an existing architect, dose it regularly with the transfluid of another architect or two, and that newspark will begin to take on the traits of its carrier and any other parents that have contributed. Eventually that newspark will come to term and emerge as a mix of what it had been destined to be originally and an architect.”

Whirl squinted at the swelling before turning his optic back up to Nautica. “So you're forcing some little innocent to become a quantum mechanic. You've been hanging around with Brainstorm lately, haven't you. This sounds like his brand of cruel and twisted.” 

“Camiens have been doing it since before the Titan Caminus was split apart, and it became pretty much the standard after the Camien energy crisis.” She leaned back against the bench and winked at him. “Besides, you can never have enough quantum mechanics around.”

Whirl looked back at her rounded middle, pushing out his field against it. “Don't worry about this quantum mechanic thing, little guy. Uncle Whirl's here to make sure you grow up cool. Not like your mommy, or her nerdy conjunx. Not that I've met him, but I'm sure he's pretty nerdy, like seriously nerdy since Nautica's interested in him. Or like Percy or Brainstorm. Your mommy knows who they were. And definitely not like that guy with the eyebrows. He was the nerdiest of them all.”

“Guy with the eyebrows?” Nautica questioned.

“Yeah that... that one guy... on the Lost Light...” Whirl paused. There had been a faceplate there in his processors for a moment, but now all he could remember was a pair of unnaturally articulated eyebrows. “Whatever.”

Nautica gave him a look. “It wasn't Skids, was it? Velocity talks about him, how close he and I had been aboard the Lost Light... but now I just don't remember much about him or why we were close.”

“No. Not Skids. I remember Skids well enough, and he was definitely not nerdy. He was almost as cool as I was. As I am. Eh, whatever. Not worth remembering the... the whoever it was.” He straightened.

“I'm going to comm' Lotty and let her know when we'll be coming in,” Nautica said, changing the subject as she looked over to where Swerve was pushing credit chips into the ticket vending machine. She pulled up her arm and opened the built-in communications unit.

Whirl leaned back into the bench, staring up at the ceiling of the train station. While it was beneath the spaceport terminal, it had a ceiling of monitor tiles, where advertisements scrolled past between views of Caminus Theta's alien sky. Well so far so good. He was out of Garrus 10, on his way to his new home where he'd be living with two femmes and a mech he knew from that amazing journey he'd made just after the war. There was a job in the kicking ass and taking names department waiting for him, a job he'd both love and be good at. He had a collar of real flowers around his neck...

...and a strange little pink alien rubbing all too familiarly against his leg.

“Gaaa-ah!” Whirl suddenly shrieked, flailing back against the bench, the creature holding on more tightly as he moved. “What the hell is that!?” He kicked his leg and managed to shake it off, leaving it on the floor in front of him, the thing burbling in some degree of confusion. “What is that!? It was touching me!” he squawked.

“Oh! That's a Blobby,” Nautica said, turning to look and quickly ending her call with Velocity.

There sat a pudgy bipedal creature, looking up at Whirl with wide green eyes, and looking unlike anything Whirl had ever encountered before. Its bright pink rubbery skin was covered with bright yellow spots. It had bright green eyelids and a round red nose. Thick red lips framed a wide set of white teeth in a smile that seemed permanently attached to its face. Its metallic green irises appeared to be in perpetual motion. It wore no clothing save for a cloth apron, a little white hat, and a white collar with a yellow bow at the front. Beside it on the ground was an upended box spilling smaller boxes of energon treats.

“Whirl, you didn't knock him over, did you?” Nautica asked concernedly, helping the strange manikin to stand. It was about knee to waist height on most Cybertronians, about the same size as a smaller minibot, perhaps just a bit taller than Rewind had been.

“Well I might have kicked a bit. It was grabbing my leg.”

Nautica leaned forward and reached for the alien thing. “I'm so sorry. My friend just arrived on the planet,” she apologized. “He's not familiar with your race.”

“Blobby blobby,” said the creature. “Ohhhh, blob blob.”

“I do apologize,” she said gently, moving down to the floor to help him pick up his merchandise. “He didn't know you were trying to sell him some candy.”

“Blobby blob blobby. Blobbyyyyyy blobby.” The pink alien seemed a bit more agitated.

“I'm so sorry. Here, let me buy any boxes that got damaged. In fact, I'll buy all the boxes you have here.”

“Blobby?”

“Yes, I will,” she said sweetly.

Whirl cocked his head in disbelief. “You're talking to him?”

“Yes. He's a bit upset right now. But he forgives you.”

The pink alien suddenly launched himselfo at Nautica, latching his arms around her leg and jumping up and down, which ended up looking a tad obscene. “Blob blobbity blob-blob,” he exclaimed happily.

“All he says is 'blobby,” Whirl questioned. “Nautica?”

She laughed as she returned to her seat, the Blobby still attached like an amorous space barnacle to her leg, and fetched some money from subspace, paying the Blobby vendor. “I know. They speak more with actions and emotion. And somehow... you just understand them. The scientists say they're communicating with us on a psychic level as well.”

The Blobby handed her thirteen boxes of treats, which she tucked into her subspace.

“Oh yeah? Psychically?” Whirl leaned forward. “Well how about this? Blobby, blobby. Blobby-blob!”

The pink alien gasped. “Blobby!” he said angrily and stomped off, clearly insulted.

“Whirl! Sheesh. You haven't even been on Solsegan 5 a cycle and you're getting into trouble.”

Whirl chuckled. “Hey. He came over here and started humping my leg. I don't exactly see that as an appropriate form of greeting. He was taking advantage of your leg as well you know.”

Nautica sighed. “Blobbies don't have any sense of personal space. They're working on it. But most don't.”

“Your conjunx... excuse me, your nerdy conjunx, doesn't mind you getting a little alien action on the side?”

“Whirl!” Nautica sputtered.

“Well they'd just better work on that sense of personal space harder while I'm in town. Wait, this isn't their planet is it?”

Nautica shook her head. The Blobbies are colonists as well. Our governments made treaties long ago regarding this world, and we were given separate territories. But lately they've been coming here, to Caminus Theta.”

Whirl snorted. “Well why doesn't anyone send them back?”

“Well because...”

“Got our tickets!” Swerve called, waving as he approached. “Train should be here any moment now.”

“Thanks Swerve,” Nautica smiled. “Here... I bought some for Solaris, but you can have a box.” She reached back into her subspace and produced a slightly battered box of energon treats. “Whirl? You want one too?”

“I'll pass,” said the rotary.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"The Persistence of Memory" continues in Chapter 6: "A Train Boarded"

-o-o-o-o-o-


End file.
